Donatien-Alphonse-François, marquis de SADE. L.A., [donjon de Vincennes] March 22 [1779], to his wife; 4pages in-4 filled with small, tight handwriting. Long letter from prison to his wife. He has written a large letter to Milli Rousset to bid her farewell; but he must "stop this ridiculous project. Besides, it makes me realize how long my detention must still be, for if it were only a matter of a few months, she would keep her word to me to wait for me"... If she really leaves, "I shall be in great despair anyway, and angry at losing her, and of course then, my misfortunes have no end". He's glad his wife is getting fatter, and that her diet is doing him good; he'll adopt it when he's out... Le Noir has not made him increase his walks, so he plays the comedy to his wife: "In the meantime, keep asking for that third walk, which I desire more than ever, since now is the time to enjoy it; but make sure it's granted to me in the afternoon, because only then do they really do me any good"... He mocks the verses of Paillet, in love with Sainte Rousset... He interprets "signals" sent by Rousset, such as an almanac of "cute presents with increases", and "the little ice-cream smashed into a thousand pieces, which without a doubt means very affirmatively that the year will not be a happy one for me, there being nothing so unfortunate as broken ice-creams"... As for the rest, he doesn't know how to read Milli Rousset's letter, with its "marks, periods, commas, lines", etc., with which she stuffs her letters, with which she stuffs her letters... "The truth I like very much that she dares to maintain to me that she told me the truth do we know the truth that I ask, it is short, it is brief, it is useless to drown it in a fatras of rabachaches of the other world, it is necessary to write to me in only one line You left the - of the month of - year - at - hours of the morning or evening. It's quite short, as you can see, and there was no need to twist things so much to tell me"... Gothon has been told to write to her every month; she is in danger of realizing that he will still be detained for a long time, and then "she will no longer be in this illusion in which I told you it was necessary to keep her, so that believing she sees us arriving at every moment, she will keep the chateau always in order and above all not make verses to herself".... He goes on to speak of the "stomach parts", which he will have for another 21 months... "When I remember the time of my sufferings, I will be able to say that you have fulfilled your duties towards me, and that I have received great consolations from you. I know you're going to tell me that I don't have common sense, that I'm wasting my blood and that I always see everything to my disadvantage". It's been two years, two years of suffering, that he's been told the same thing; and he considers himself "more backward than I was in the first months... And you'd think I'd forgive those who devised this kind of torture against me... I'd rather eat my soul than not take revenge... I'll prove to these unworthy monsters, these execrable beasts that hell has vomited up for the misfortune of others, that I'm not their plaything, and that if I've had the misfortune of being one for a while, they may well one day become mine too (whoever they may be)." He no longer wants muscatel wine: "One desires twenty times a day with singular violence all sorts of things, and the next moment without having procured them... one has a horrible disgust of them"... He goes on to talk about the doctor and his daughter, a duchess, and the Martignan, "a wench, largely responsible for my affair and who wanted revenge for the fact that I didn't want her in my first voiyages in Provence. She is grimacing, small and common-looking, whereas the duchess, with a very amiable character, has a very noble phisionomy and the air of Minerva"... He also mentions the visit of a lawyer, a "dark animal" with an ungrateful face; asks for books and small candles; talks about the marquise's father. And he ends by talking about a portrait painted by Mili Rousset: "She can do whatever she wants with her five fingers - there's only one thing I wanted La Coste to do with those same fingers, and she never wanted to do it... Well, there you are, ladies. You're about to hear a piece of politeness, and it's the simplest thing in the world. I'd tell the Blessed Virgin herself if she asked me, it's so simple and honest. [...] I'll keep this portrait for the rest of my life [...] You mustn't leave when you love people so much that you amuse yourself by drawing their portrait. Tell him that however good he is, I'd like to think he'd still be alive.